


Ice Skin

by kitkatkaylie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ghost is the goodest boy, Jon Snow was dead to begin with, M/M, The major character death is Jon but he comes back, i could probably put a Christmas Carol joke there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28174533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie
Summary: Satin was not ashamed to say that he screamed at the sight that awaited him when he returned to the chamber that housed Jon’s corpse.
Relationships: Satin Flowers/Jon Snow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Ice Skin

Jon’s face was lifeless, smooth and blank and so very  _ young _ looking, now that it was no longer heavy with responsibility.

It was hard to look at him, hard not to shake Jon’s arm and desperately call for him to wake up. But Satin didn’t think he would be able to actually lift his arms to do such a thing.

It was as though his body was refusing to accept that Jon was dead. It was as though some part of his mind beloved that any touch might wake him from his slumber.

He shivered slightly in the cold air of the chamber, it was one of the rooms which backed directly onto the Wall. A room that they usually used for storage, it’s cold temperature was ideal for keeping things from going bad. 

It was a room that had been empty for quite some time, the wars that plagued Westeros keeping the usual supplies from reaching them and leaving many rooms empty. 

The lack of food was almost certainly one of the reasons for the mutiny against Jon in the first place. Hungry men did stupid things, and stupid men blamed whoever they could for their misfortune.

Privately Satin wondered whether some of the men had used it as a chance to gain vengeance on the Starks as well, those who had been sent to the Wall by Lord Eddard Stark taking out their anger on his last remaining son. Or perhaps those who blamed the late Lord Stark for his role in the beginning of the wars, or the late King Robb for his part; the wars which had made them all tighten their belts and look at those loyalties that still remained, no matter that they were supposed to give them up when they joined the Night’s Watch, perhaps it was those men as well seeking an opportunity on the last man with Stark blood.

Reasons no longer really mattered anymore though, not when Jon lay dead upon an old table. 

There was no coming back from death after all. 

Finally Satin managed to bring himself to lay a hand upon Jon’s icy skin. He gently brushed his fingers across those cold cheeks, and tucked an errant curl back behind Jon’s ear.

Jon had always been surprisingly particular about his appearance, careful of the way he looked in a way that few of the other men were. 

It was a habit he had attributed to his father’s wife, when Satin had once asked, he had stated that she had always made sure that everyone was properly attired. It had been said with a fond smile, and had led into a story about his youngest sister and an argument she had had with Lady Stark regarding what ‘appropriate attire’ actually was for the activities she was participating in. For Satin, who had never really had a family, it had been strange to hear of such joyful times recounted in a voice that hinted at a great love for a number of the people described within.

A tear dropped from his eye onto Jon’s forehead, the sweet memories forcing them to emerge from where he had been so desperately repressing them.

It looked wrong, marring the smooth surface of Jon’s skin like that, and yet Satin found his hands would not move to brush it away.

It was his lips that moved instead, forcing him to lean down so that he could kiss the briny droplet away. It was a kiss that made Satin wish that he had been able to press more kisses to Jon’s face while he had been alive, 

Satin scrubbed a hand over his eyes and sniffed harshly, he could not just stand and cry, there were things that had to be done before they could shepherd Jon to his final resting place. There were people who had to be allowed to see him and, including the most important of all: Ghost. 

He scrubbed his hand over his eyes once more and nodded resolutely, he had to go find Ghost. With a final glance back at Jon’s body, he went to go and find Ghost, so that he might say a final farewell to his master, leaving Jon’s body unattended. He doubted any of the mutineers would go near it, it would only be those few who still cared for the Lord Commander who would enter to pay their final respects. 

Nothing could happen to Jon’s corpse while Satin was gone, he was sure of it. Especially not when the Red Woman herself was going to pay her respects, she scared more than half of the men left in Castle Black. 

* * *

Satin was not ashamed to say that he screamed at the sight that awaited him when he returned to the chamber that housed Jon’s corpse.

The body was no longer upon the bench where Satin had left it, no, it stood at the end of the bench. It stood when it should not be possible. It stood, obviously held up by some sort of dark magic.

It had been stupid to leave Jon’s corpse to rest, rather than burning it. It had been so very stupid to give the Others a chance to steal Jon from them. 

It had been stupid to scream as well, for the wight wearing Jon’s face turned to Satin. It’s movements were stiff, and there was no sign of pain from the open wounds in the wight’s bearing at all.

Satin clutched at the knife he carried in his belt. It was a pretty, slender thing. One which Jon had unearthed from the back of some cabinet in the Lord Commander’s chambers and pressed into Satin’s hands after he had witnessed some of the abuse hurled his way by the other brothers. 

It had been a sweet gesture, made all the sweeter by Jon showing him the best way to use the knife. His lesson had included movements he confessed had been taught to him by a Wildling Spearwife, movements that were supposed to protect the wielder from someone attempting to force themself upon them.

He held it before him in trembling hands, a desperate attempt to protect himself from the wight, and yet one he knew he would not be able to bring himself to use. He would not be able to pierce his blade into any creature that wore Jon’s face, not even one which was trying to kill him. It would feel far too much like a betrayal of the darkest sort, like he had joined the mutineers who had murdered his Lord Commander and love.

Satin knew that if he allowed his blade to pierce Jon’s skin then he would surely perish himself soon after, though whether it would be from shame or sorrow was the only uncertainty. 

A large presence pressed against his leg, and Satin jumped at the sensation. He had forgotten that Ghost had accompanied him, and now the direwolf was making himself known.

A low growl burst from Ghost’s throat, it was quiet, and yet seemed to echo in the silent chamber. It was a protective growl, one that made a hint of warmth spark in Satin’s heart. For Ghost to still be protective of him meant that he had made a very positive impression on the wolf, that his love for Jon had been obvious to his constant companion.

The wight startled at the sound of Ghost’s growl, which was odd to say the least. Wights never normally reacted to anything unless it was someone for them to attack or directed by an Other. 

And then, something that could not merely be described as ‘odd’, something incredibly strange happened, the wight made a noise.

“Ghhhh.” It rasped, as one of its hands reached forwards, “Ghhhsst.”

Satin felt the knife in his hand wobble, only to finally fall when Ghost bounded up to the wight with his tail wagging wildly.

“Ghhhsst.” The wight said again-  _ Jon _ said again, as Satin realised that it was not the magic of the Others that had brought Jon back, but some other force. 

“Jon?” He gasped out, his knees weak and his heart in his throat, “Jon?”

Jon turned his warm grey eyes onto Satin, no hint of the brilliant blue of the wights to be seen.

“S-“ He choked, his tongue obviously unused to forming words, heavy and clumsy in his mouth. “S’tn?”

Satin nodded and stepped over the knife, his feet carrying him quite without permission over to the man he loved.

Even closer to him he could see the damage that being dead had done to Jon’s body, the streak of white in his hair and the bruises beneath his eyes, so dark a shade of purple that they almost made it seem as though Jon’s grey eyes held a hint of violet.

Jon’s hand crept up and slowly, gently was pressed against the skin of Satin’s cheek, mirroring the movement which had caused Satin such sorrow before.

“No… Sad…” Jon managed to say, as a tear dripped from Satin’s eye onto his hand, “Happy… Safe with Gh’st and S’tin…”

His words and the meaning behind them only made the tears fall harder. That Jon still felt safe with Satin even after Satin failed him was a miracle. One which Satin would not ever forget nor fail to repay.

“Yes Jon.” He said softly, as he pressed his face into the cold strength of Jon’s palm, “You are safe now. I would desert the Watch before I let any more harm come to you.”

A smile cracked its way onto Jon’s face and he nodded. It was all Satin could do not to surge forwards and kiss him, for he was sure that would startle Jon. 

Instead he just stood there and let the tears fall, his face cradled in the hands of the man he loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @istaricelebelasse


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